


Closure

by dysfunctionalfuckfest



Category: Tegan and Sara (Band)
Genre: F/F, quincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3682212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysfunctionalfuckfest/pseuds/dysfunctionalfuckfest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“'Let’s go back to when it worked out. Let’s book the same room, in the same hotel, let’s go back to New Orleans and make it work between us again!'”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closure

Alcohol wasn’t her strong suit. None of them could take great pride in their drinking skills, really, but she realized that however weak in the knees she (and Sara too, most definitely) felt, at least Stacy was clearly worse. She’d laugh boisterously at just about anything while her head fell this way and that, and she sunk back into the couch or fell on Sara’s lap or tripped over the centre table where all the beer, the vodka, the rum, the wine were, each bottle at a different level of empty -- no matter how optimistic one could be, these bottles could never be considered half-full, as much as any of them could want to.

Stacy had been adamant in getting all of the booze Sara and her had stored for Tegan’s visit since it was cold and there is no better feeling of warmth during the winter than that which a bottle can offer. In good company, of course. Tegan had just interrupted the sworn vacation between Sara and herself on the account of feeling too lonely back in her place, a plane ticket away, waddling her tiny self along the thick snow in the streets of New York to be with her little sister. And Stacy, of course.

“It was cute of you to come, Tegan,” Stacy slurred. “I wish Sara would do things like that now and again, ha!”

“I always come back home, what are you talking about?”

“Not in the middle of an impending blizzard, do you, Sassy Sara Sar?” Stacy pressed Sara’s nose and giggled before turning over another dose of vodka into her mouth.

The twins laughed as well, Sara looking at Tegan, Tegan at Stacy’s feet. Sara took Stacy’s glass away under protest.

“I think someone’s had enough, babe.”

“No fair,” Stacy said and then yawned, barely able to keep her eyes open or herself sitting up, melting away over her girlfriend’s body. “Not fair at all,” she said again, resting her head against Sara’s belly, looking up and then closing her eyes.

Tegan drank from her beer bottle, with no time to breathe in between gulps.

“Come on now, Stace, we should get to bed --”

“No, no, no. No. I’ll go to bed,” said the woman, sitting straight again with effort, squinting through the alcoholic haze in her perception. “You stay, Sara-Sar,” Stacy tried to kiss Sara’s lips and missed, kissing her chin instead, “keep your sister company, entertain her.”

She tried to get up but fell again. Sara caught her.

“I’m okay!”

“Let me at least take you to the bedroom, Stace.”

“Bye bye, Tegan, have fun,” Stacy waved at her, a child again after god knows how many glasses of everything she’d taken.

Tegan shot her a wide smile just before Stacy tripped, despite being held by her partner on one side, and fell into Tegan, whose (luckily empty) bottle fell to the floor as Stacy’s hand grazed one of her breasts.

“Oh my God,” Stacy said between laughs, “I’m so sorry, oh my God, haha!”

Tegan herself got up to help her sister take Stacy up the stairs to the bedroom as Stacy laughed and laughed and laughed, unable to say anything. The dizziness took over as soon as Tegan stood, but she resisted bravely -- if Sara could do it, so could she; they had endured the effects of large amounts of alcohol and drugs when they were young, they were hardened against it all, or so she hoped -- and forward they went, trying to ignore the persistent sound of Stacy’s amusement at everything.

Up they went, by Stacy’s sides, careful and slow. At the top of the steps, the laughter faded into another long yawn and Stacy’s body grew heavier. She snickered a bit, muttering nicknames for Sara until they reached the bedroom and the twins set her on the large bed. Both twins stumbled about in the dark trying to make her comfortable, as Stacy was already breathing deep, in a stage between conscience and coma, apparently. They tucked her in somehow, Tegan having hit her leg on the furniture, Sara having fallen to the floor at least once, but at last Stacy was safe and sound in bed.

Sara bent down to kiss her forehead goodnight and Stacy said, faintly, “You aren’t all that identical, ha. Ha.”

She was left unanswered as Sara regained some of her sobriety and led Tegan out, shutting the door behind them.

“Not the strongest drinker, Stacy,” Tegan remarked as they descended the stairs back to the living room with some difficulty, holding on to the handrail -- and to one another.

“Yeah, no,” was the reply as they shared a tiny, false laugh.

It became an honest one when they stumbled over one another at the end of the stairs and nearly fell on top of one another on the ground.

“You okay?” Sara guffawed.

“Yeah, you?”

“I didn’t break any bones!”

They chuckled all the way back to the couch and sat on the same one this time. Sara and Stacy had been sitting on the larger one while Tegan had been left the armchair on the side, but now they took their place by one another.

“So, what now? Stacy told you to entertain me.” Tegan smiled slyly at her sibling.

Sara snorted. “Isn’t a whole year on the road amusement enough for you?”

She reached out for the wine bottle, Tegan shrugged and nodded once. They shouldn’t, but they would.

“The things I do for you. Thanks,” Tegan took the glass Sara gave her. “Here I am, freezing my ass off in New York, of all places. I don’t know how you live here.”

“Oh, please, you lived in L.A., the place is unbearable.”

“ _You’re_ unbearable, I don’t know what I came here for,” Tegan half-joked.

The laughter didn’t last. Tegan’s eyes weren’t as giddy as her voice. At this stage of inebriation, neither could lie if they tried.

Sara stared at her twin, lowering her own drink. Both had drooping eyes; they weren’t as better off compared to Stacy as they thought. Her girlfriend’s words came back to the front of her mind and Sara couldn’t help inquiring.

“Why did you come, Tee?”

“I missed you. That’s all.” Suddenly, the wine swirling in her glass seemed very interesting. “I miss you.”

“Tegan…”

“Don’t condescend to me. Please, don’t. You have a great house, you have Stacy --”

“I thought you were seeing that girl --”

“It’s over, so no. So don’t blame me.”

Sara set her wine on the table and reached out for her sister’s hand. Tegan had let the one that wasn’t holding her drink limp and didn’t offer resistance when her sister took it.

“I don’t.”

Tegan looked up at her. She emptied the contents of her glass and put it beside Sara’s before turning back to her.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

Sara let go of her hand but Tegan caught her back.

“Tegan, come on --”

“Just tell me.”

“After last time --”

“Last time doesn’t count for anything, I’m not asking about last time.”

“You’re in my house, my girlfriend is asleep upstairs --”

“Just answer the question, Sar. Answer the damn question.”

Sara looked away. Unlike Tegan, she had no strength when she drank and as much as she tried to escape her sister’s grip, Tegan’s fingers remained firmly clenched upon her wrists. Not enough to hurt her, just what she needed to keep Sara there with her. And she was there, chained to her, but her mind was elsewhere -- Sara’s mind swam against an irate current of images, sensations, scents: she saw the breaths, she heard the flesh, she touched the dark as she let it consume her; and the darkness was Tegan.

“Tegan, no.”

Who knew darkness had fangs?

“Sara --”

“I said no.”

You shouldn’t sleep with ghosts. They’ll burn your soul, leave blots on your skin, turn you from the inside out, call it love.

“You’re thinking about last time, I told you to forget --”

“I can’t fucking forget last time, Tegan, can you? Really?”

It wasn’t meant to be like that, it was never meant to be like it had. It wasn’t their first time around, they thought they knew better, they could embrace it, all of it, as they did during that actual first time, some years past. But things hadn’t run smoothly; with hearts pounding on their tongues, hands sweaty and tremulous, bodies cold and brittle, it had been idiotic to go ahead with it. They were too quick, too wild, too stupid. Tegan couldn’t walk well for a week, Sara had pushed her sister aside and thrown up on the bed, on the floor, on their skin. It had nothing of beauty, it had nothing of the love that had first united them; they thought it was there, and maybe it was, but sometimes the body finds revulsion where the spirit finds home. Why they had been so happy the first time around and so cursed the second, neither could say. And neither could forget.

“That wasn’t meant to happen.”

“And it did. I’m not surprised it did.”

“Don’t say that --”

“Sickness, Tegan, literally. Sickness and pain. That’s what we brought upon ourselves and we agreed we wouldn’t do it again, we wouldn’t put ourselves through all of that again. I’m getting sick again just thinking about it, just stop. Let go.”

Tegan tightened her grasp, tears threatening to spill. She wasn’t all that an easy crier, not anymore, but the alcohol brought it out, it brought her past self out again. Sara should’ve known better than let Stacy talk them into this, dammit.

“Tegan, let go, you’re starting to hurt me,” Sara said, fighting her off without success. “Tegan, stop this, you’re --”

Her sister let go of her wrists, but only to take her more forcefully, pull her closer by the hair, cover her mouth with her own. For all her struggle, Sara found herself kissing back, clawing at Tegan’s back, attempting to steal the very air they both breathed. The taste of wine and beer mixed on their tongues and their hungry hands, yearning as they were, sought not the violence of all-consuming passion but the comfort of love. They broke the kiss, gasping for air, resting forehead on forehead, holding one another by the cheeks.

“Let’s… Let’s go back.”

“W-What?” Sara asked.

Tegan moved back just enough to be able to look her sister in the eye, never letting go of her, still regaining control over their lungs.

“Let’s go back to when it worked out. Let’s book the same room, in the same hotel, let’s go back to New Orleans and make it work between us again!”

“Tegan, that was a one-time only deal, it won’t happen again, last time --”

“Last time wasn’t how the first happened. We can try it. We’re on vacation, hell, we can do it right now, I’ll do it from my phone this second -- Sara, we can do it exactly as we did that time, we can be… We can be one again. Like we’re meant to be, you’re the one who said it that time, remember? While we drifted off to sleep, while you held on to me all night --”

“Tegan, stop.”

Sara’s voice stunned her. There had been no hesitation while they kissed, just seconds ago, but neither had it been present in this command of hers now.

“We said we wouldn’t, we promised one another. I don’t think anything can ‘make it work’. And look at us, Tegan, Christ, what future would we have?”

“I don’t know, we’d find a way --”

“What happened in New Orleans was amazing. What we felt then, that was… That was everything. But we shouldn’t have done it. We shouldn’t be pushing it now.”

“Hah!” Tegan laughed a bitter laugh to herself. “I never thought you’d say certain things being drunk as you would being sober. Typical you, Sara.”

“You think I don’t want this, Tegan? You think I’m playing with you, that I wouldn’t give anything for you? Haven’t I given everything for you already? Haven’t I given you my life, my soul, everything I own? I’ve given you my body, once. You’ve taken it already. There’s nothing else to give, and you know damn well that if there were, I’d still give it to you. Please don’t ask more of me. Don’t ask more of yourself.”

The taste of beer on Tegan’s tongue had never felt so bitter. Her eyes, marred by tears, had never seen clearer.

“Tegan. Teetee. Don’t cry, Tegan, please.”

Sara pulled her twin towards her and though Tegan had tried to escape her embrace, she let herself be held, fighting back tears, her countenance aflame.

“If you cry, I’ll have to cry too, Tee, please don’t,” Sara’s voice was a sweet whisper caressing her ear, her lips grazing an earlobe.

They sat holding on to one another a while, swallowing down their anguish. Tegan didn’t need to ask again. She knew the answer would be no. She knew she shouldn’t even hope for a yes, so she wiped every trace of an expectation away. They sat and sunk into one another. This was truth. This was as close as they could get; it was already closer than most people could even imagine or will ever experience, and yet, it would never be close enough. Not for lack of wanting it; they wanted to. They just couldn’t.

Things were calmer now. Neither knew how long it had passed, but their feelings had been successfully digested and the pain buried down. The drunken haze had given way to greater conscience.

“You know…” Tegan said under her breath, resigned with their circumstances as ever she would be, shifting in her seat to hug her sibling back. “New Orleans taught me one thing. We have to stick together, stay close.”

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Sara asked with a sad smile, holding her tighter. “Being like this.”

“Remember when we used to sneak into one another’s bed when we were little so we could sleep side by side?”

Sara stopped herself from kissing her sister’s head, instead burying herself further into Tegan.

“It’s late. Going to bed is what we should be doing, don’t you think?”

“It feels so good here, though,” Tegan said with a weak smirk. “But you’re right, of course.”

Tegan readied herself to get up and leave but Sara held her by the wrist. She hadn’t expected the good night kiss, not after all this; it was nothing like the one from before, wild and tinted the hue of craving, but calm, sweet, innocent, even. They kissed like sisters, a brush of lips upon lips. It didn’t taste like alcohol, nor blood, nor waste. It tasted like an apology, like a promise, like healing.

And in the midst of it, they had been deaf. Only now did they pick up on the sounds of someone dragging themselves through the house, down the stairs to where they were.

“Saaaara-Sar, won’t you come to bed --?”

The sisters could only stare back at the wide-eyed Stacy, standing at the foot of the stairway, wasted, yes, but not wasted enough to ignore just how intimate the twins were, just how close their mouths were to one another, just how her own name was trapped behind their teeth, wanting to slip through their lips, lips coloured in one another.


End file.
